Blind Dates and Sorbets
by soyforramen
Summary: A series of unconnected Fremione drabbles.
1. Blind Dates

"Hermione, what are you doing back so soon?" Ginny asked as she walked into the living room.

"You're never allowed to set me up again Ginevra Molly Weasley," Hermione groaned as she fell onto the couch. "The slimy little toad stood me up tonight. Luckily your brother showed up or I would have considered the whole night wasted." She sat up just enough to yank her arms out of her coat before sinking back into the cushions.

Ginny raised an eyebrow and sat on the armchair across from her. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific Hermione. I've never been short of brothers."

"Fred of all people, decided to show up and be civil for once. Did you know he can be quite charming when he's not trying to irritate you?"

Ginny nodded and blew on her tea. "Yes, I do recall him cracking a few jokes and opening a door or two over the years."

Hermione rolled her eyes and began to pull off her stockings. "You might, but the only memories I have are of him being an obnoxious troll who liked to see how much paper he could put in my hair before I noticed."

The memory pulled a snort from Ginny and she bit her lip as Hermione shot her a withering look. Perhaps it was best not to mention who she'd intended to set Hermione up with.

"Anyways, I'd been waiting at the restaurant for almost an hour -"

"You waited that long?"

"Yes. Normally I wouldn't, but I was too caught up in my book to pay attention to the time. By the time I looked up to check the clock, in walks your brother, completely covered in soot with half of his hair burned off and not a care in the world. So imagine my surprise when he looks around the shop and spots me, then comes to sit at my table as if I'd invited him over."

"Oh? Did he say anything?"

Hermione snorted. "This is Fred, of course he had something to say. He'd barely sat down before he began going on and on about how they'd put too much krup dung in the fireworks batch and that's why he was looking so bad. Apparently it took them almost an hour and a half to put out the fire and by that time it was already past closing. He'd drawn the short straw and was sent for take out. In the middle of all of that, the waiter comes over, probably happy he can finally take someone's order, then Fred puts his order in to eat there. And I'm so flabbergasted by his sudden appearance, when the waiter asks what I want I put in for a curry."

"I'm surprised you didn't tell Fred to shove off," Ginny said with a laugh.

"I am too. But we got to talking about work and things, and now I'm meeting him for dinner on Thursday."

"Are you really?" Ginny asked with a slight smile on her face.

"Well, yes. That is if you don't mind," Hermione said as she fiddled with her necklace.

"Why would I mind?"

"Well, you did try to set me up tonight, even if the bugger didn't show. I didn't know if you'd want me to give it another go with him before meeting Fred.

"Not at all. I'm happy something worked out for you tonight," Ginny said with a grin. Perhaps it was best Hermione didn't know Fred had almost stood her up tonight.

xxxx

The first in a series of unconnected drabbles.


	2. Lunch

"Your brother came to the hospital again today," Hermione said absently as Ginny sat down at their shared table. "Managed to grow horns out of his toenails this time."

"He did?" Ginny said with a groan, happy to finally be off her feet. "That's what, the third time this month? He's never been this clumsy before, especially not where potions are concerned. It's almost as if," Ginny paused in untying her Quidditch boots as the thought struck her.

No.

Surely not.

Fred. Fred of all people? George, she could see. He was more the type; quiet, intellectual, a closeted history geek. But Fred?

"Almost as if what, Gin?" Hermione asked as she stirred something on the stove.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Ginny said as she hurried to tie her boots back up. "Save a plate for me. I'll be back later, forgot something at work," she threw over her shoulder as she ran out the door.

—

"Frederick Gideon Weasley, you absolute wanker, why didn't you tell me?"

Fred turned from where he'd been restocking the sweets display to find his sister stalking towards him. "Didn't tell you what dear sister of mine?"

He winced as Ginny greeted him by slugging him in the arm. Fred didn't know whether to be proud that she'd taken his lessons in throwing a punch so seriously growing up or irritated that she'd decided to use his own lessons against him.

"About Hermione you cad," she hissed. "All this time I thought you'd been moping about over your break up with Esmerelda, come to find out you'd been chatting up Hermione at the hospital."

Fred frowned and glanced around the shop. Any interest Ginny might have garnered had quickly dissipated by Lee's arrival with a new crate of Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow cream. He quickly shoved the rest of the sweets into the cabinet and nodded towards the back offices, turning before she had a chance to argue. Ginny rolled her eyes and followed him to the back, closing the door behind her.

When her brother went over to check on the cauldrons instead of giving her an explanation, Ginny raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Well?"

At her prompting, Fred sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair. "It's weird, isn't it? It is, I know, but it just. It just happened. And then there's her whole history, non-history with Ron, not to mention I don't even know how she feels about me. And even if she does, there's Mum to deal with, not to mention Ron and Harry. And George. I don't even know what I'd do about George finding out. He'd give me grief over this the rest of my life, especially when he finds out how long I've been hiding it from him. Sure, he had his suspicions in seventh year but -"

"Seventh year?" Ginny yelped. "You've liked her for that long?"

Fred shrugged and looked away from her. "Don't have to make it seem like such a shock," he mumbled. "Besides, it was just a schoolboy crush is all."

"Doesn't seem like such a 'school boy crush' nine years later," Ginny shot back. "Besides, when has she ever been your type?"

Fred scowled and picked up the cauldron he'd been stirring. "I didn't realize I had to have a type," he muttered as he carried it over to the suspension area.

"Well, you do tend to go more for the buxom blondes," Ginny noted. "Generally the ones without much more than two galleons to rub together between the ears."

Fred set down the cauldron with a grunt before turning to look at his sister. "Did you ever think that maybe those were the girls George set me up with?"

Ginny picked up a sugar quill and twirled it between her fingers as she thought. "That would explain why they never lasted longer than a week. What about Hermione?"

"What about her?"

"How do you think she feels about you?"

Fred shrugged. "I'm Ron's older brother. She's obligated to at least humor me."

"You and I both know your more than that to her. Friends, at least," Ginny pointed out. "Besides, when has Hermione ever humored anyone she didn't care for?"

Fred sighed and sat down heavily in his office chair. "Fine. She seems to like me about as well as a friend. At least she asked if I'd be up for lunch tomorrow."

Ginny's ears perked up at the mention of lunch. "Fred, Fred, that's a good thing. It's lunch, don't you see?"

Fred looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "That's what I just said Gin. Lunch. The meal in the middle of the day."

"No I mean look at it this way. It's during the middle of the workday, and she almost never takes a lunch break. If she does it's ten minutes and then she's back on duty. But she's setting aside an entire hour for you, don't you see?"

Fred grinned and Ginny bounced on her toes as all the possibilities came to her. If this worked out, she'd get the flat to herself most nights, not to mention the added bonus of having Hermione around for all the family events she'd been able to duck out of by not technically being part of the family.

"Lunch it is then."


	3. Stereos

Fred stumbled as he made his way towards the apartment building, the stereo heavy in his hands. He patted his coat pockets and smiled when he heard the cassette tapes knocking together.

This would work. This had to work. And if it didn't, she'd never speak to him again. And if she never spoke to him again, well. Fred didn't want to think that far. It was, after all, his first real relationship they were talking about. His first relationship that had lasted them throughout all of secondary and half of uni before she'd tossed him aside for that Oleo man. Oreo. Olive. Whatever he was.

Besides, George and Lee had told him this was a good plan. And they'd never steered him wrong before when it came to women. And all women loved John Hughes movies, right? The whole standing in the rain and serenading their loved one. It was all so romantic. After all, women loved those romantic gestures. Especially when the lead character was trying to woo her back. At least, that's how it worked on T.V.

His musings spilled in on themselves as Fred tripped over the curb below her window. Maybe the last few whiskey shots were overkill, but at least they gave him the liquid courage to not care about making a fool of himself. Double checking that he had the right window, Fred set the stereo down on the sidewalk and began to pull the cassettes from his pocket. He squinted at the first one and when the label wouldn't stay still he closed one eye.

The first tape was no good. It looked like Ginny's syrupy ode to the boy who lived down the street from them growing up. All lightening bolts and messy hair. The second one had Mum's music, full of Michael Bolten and Bryan Adams. That was no good, he thought as he tossed it into the bushes. She'd never go for that. The last one, the tape that George had slipped into his pocket before they left the pub, that one had potential.

Fred bent down and punched at the stereo's buttons. One of these opened the tape deck, he just had to find the right combination. When it finally kicked open with a mechanical whine, Fred stuffed the tape already in it into his pocket and inserted the new tape with a loud click. He lifted his finger to his lips and shushed the machine.

"Ron will kill me if he finds out we went for a walk, so you'll have to be a bit quieter than that."

Fiddling with the buttons, Fred searched to find the power button, jabbing at every square button along the top of the stereo. After a minute, the sounds of a whiney rock ballad came out of the stereo. As the song filled the night air, Fred sat down on the curb next to the stereo.

"I want to know what love is," he muttered to himself. He shifted as something poked his side and fished the rest of the whiskey bottle out of his pocket. "I want to feel what love is," he muttered as he took a long drink.

Two turns of the tape later and Fred's singing had grown loud enough to echo off the buildings. "Don't you, forget about me," he crooned as the tape came to an end, swaying clumsily in time with the music. "Love, do you hear me? Don't you forget about me."

The sound of a window slamming open cut through the silence and Fred glanced two stories up where a frizzy headed brunette was half hanging out the window.

"She's out of town you daft git! You've been singing to the wrong bloody window for three hours. Go home already!"

Odd. Ang didn't sound that posh.

"No, you've been singing to the wrong window," Fred called back at the woman. He pitched forward as his center of gravity moved again, only this time he managed to trip over the stereo.

He could hear the woman sigh loudly as she slammed her window shut. Fine. If she wanted to keep his Angelina away from him, he'd just have to sing louder.

"You. You got what I need. But you say he's just a friend. You say he's just -"

"Yes, yes alright, he's just a friend, you sodding idiot," a voice said from the entranceway. Fred lifted his head to see the brunette walking towards him, her short robe tied tightly against the night air. He raised an eyebrow at how short her pajamas were, not an unwelcome sight even in his drunken state, but the ground began tilting again and he landed hard onto the ground.

The woman muttered something under her breath and a hand hovered in front of his face. Fred stared at it until it shook at him and he grabbed it. With a sharp tug, he was pulled back onto his feet and tripped into the woman. "Sorry, you moved," he muttered into her shoulder.

The woman steadied him and looked up at him. "You won't stop this until you're sober, will you?"

Fred shook his head and leaned against the woman as the ground began to spin again. "No. I won't stop until Angelina comes back to me."

The woman sighed and glanced down the road. "Which means that I won't be able to get back to sleep until you're sober and realize how horrible an idea this is. You're lucky all my finals were yesterday or I'd have already thrown something at your head. Come on. There's a coffee shop just down the road. I'm sure Rosemerta won't mind you pouring into a booth for a few hours."

Fred sniffed and pulled away from the woman. A bad idea considering that he began to stumble into the street. "I don't need pouring into anything," he said stubbornly as the woman grabbed the back of his jacket. "A coffee would be nice though."

"Fantastic. Let's go then," she said as she tugged him down the street.

"Wait. Wait, wait. The stereo. I can't leave that here, Ron will kill me if I lose it," Fred said as he did an about face and began walking back to the apartment complex.

"I'll kill you if you keep talking," The woman mumbled, though she did help him pick up the stereo before guiding him back towards the diner.

"I'm Fred by the way," he said with a sloppy wink. "You're not going to take my liver to Mexico are you?"

"Hermione. And after tonight I doubt you have much of any liver left to bring anywhere. Do you always keep such odd habits?"

Fred grinned. "Only when there's a pretty lady around."

Hermione snorted and steered him back towards the sidewalk. "I'll bet you're a real charmer when you're sober."

"You have no idea. Did I ever tell you about the time I managed to get a free car wash with only my dad's toupee and a spoon?" Fred asked as they entered the diner.


	4. Puns

"I'm not so good with the advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?" Fred asked.

Hermione snorted a soggy, sloppy sound and Fred handed her the handkerchief in his pocket. She took it with a nod of thanks and blew her nose.

"Anything would be better than what Ron said at dinner," she said.

"High bar to set for me, Granger," Fred admitted as he leaned against the wall. "Don't know if I'm up for the task. Now, let's see. How about this one. Did you hear about the Italian chef who passed away?" Hermione shook her head, her curls frizzing up even more. "He pasta way," he finished with a grin.

Hermione gave him a small smile and Fred grinned.

"Why can't pirates finish the alphabet? Because they spend years at C."

This time, Hermione gave him a bark of laughter that surprised herself. Whatever it was her two dimwit friends had said this time wasn't enough to dampen her spirit entirely. Encouraged by her response, Fred began to spout off the jokes Ginny had loved growing up.

"What do sea monsters eat for lunch? Fish and ships. What tea do beaters drink? Penal-tea," he said, shooting the jokes he always told Ginny at her in rapid fire. "What do ghosts serve for dessert? I scream. What do you call an alligator in a vest? An investigator."

Hermione began to giggle and Fred was happy to see that her tears had finally dried up.

"Thanks, Fred," she said when she finally caught her breath. "I really needed that."

Fred shrugged and turned to look out the window. "Not a problem Hermione. We all need a good joke every now and then. Especially if you hang around with guys like that," he said with a nod of his head to where the boys were huddled over a chessboard by the fire.

Hermione sniffed. "Yes well. They're not all bad I suppose. They have their moments. Anyways. Thanks again," she said with a smile as she gathered her things.

Fred smiled back, dropping it once she was out of sight. He frowned and reminded himself that he and George would have to have a talk with Ron and Harry tomorrow.

—

Two weeks later, Fred was trying not to fall asleep during one of Dumbledore's weekly addresses to the school. Lee already had a hand in the jelly while George had given up and stretched out under the table. Something soft crashed into the back of his head and jerked Fred awake. With a quick glance around, Fred snatched the blue colored paper in front of him and unfolded it under the table.

"Two fish are in a tank. One fish turns to the other and asks, 'How do you drive this thing?'"

Fred smirked and glanced up and caught Hermione staring at him with a smile on her face. He shot her a wink and she quickly turned back to face the front of the Hall with a blush.


	5. Dance

"You, me. Dance. What do you say Granger? Go to Homecoming with me?" Fred Weasley, jock extraordinaire asked as he leaned against the lockers.

Hermione's jaw ground together as his entourage descended around her. "Even if it meant smelling those atrocious dung bombs of yours for the rest of my life I still wouldn't go with you," she sneered, slamming her locker shut. She turned and stalked towards biology class before Fred could say anything else.

"Ouch, Fred. Might want to go visit Pomfrey for that burn," Alicia told him while the rest of his group dissolved into laughter.

Fred started chuckling and Hermione rolled her eyes at their foolishness. Didn't they know how irritating they were, especially to those who cared about their studies? Besides, why would a Junior want to go with a Freshman to Homecoming? It could only be another one of his pranks, especially since he hadn't said a word to her since she was nine.

—

"You, me. Dance?" Fred asked with a wink as he set his lunch tray on the table next to her. "Senior Prom's coming up and I haven't got a date yet."

"Sounds like you're going stag then," Hermione said, never once picking her head up from her chemistry book. They had a quiz coming up in Snape's class next period and she just knew he'd try something to break her perfect record in his class.

"Are you not going?" Fred began to pull her chemistry book closer to him, hoping to make her look at him.

"I am. Just not with you."

"Oh? And just who is this mystery date of yours?" he asked with that mocking grin of his.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Hermione said as she snatched her book back from him. "I haven't even told Ginny."

"Come on dovie, at least give me a hint," Fred pleaded. Hermione gave him a withering look and turned back to her notes. "I promise, no pranking the freshmen for a week," he said, holding his hand up in a perfect imitation of a boy scout pledge.

Hermione sighed and picked at her lunch room potatoes. If he held true to it, and oddly enough she was finding out he always held true to his promises, that would make getting through midterms easier. "He's taller, darker, and much more handsome than you."

At her words, Fred let go of her book and leaned back to lookout her. Hermione fought the urge to squirm under his gaze and she briefly imagined that this must be what a bug under a microscope felt like. "Good for you," he finally said. "Save a dance for me?" he asked with a soft smile.

Just as quickly as he'd sat down, Fred picked up his tray before she could answer, leaving Hermione in such a frazzled state that she could hardly focus on anything else for the rest of lunch.

—

"You, me. Dance?" Fred asked as he held out his hand to Hermione.

She shook her head and laughed. "It's not as if I have a choice," she teased as she took his hand and followed him towards the dance floor. "I still haven't figured out why it is that your sister paired me up with you. Isn't the maid of honor supposed to dance with the best man?"

Fred smiled as he spun her around. "Traditionally, she is. Unless a groomsman calls in a long-overdue favor from his sister. Besides, would you really want to chance it with twinkle toes over there?" he asked, nodding to where Ron was dancing with Luna, or rather across her.

Hermione covered her mouth with her free hand and laughed. "No, I suppose not. But why would said groomsman call in such a rare and valued favor?"

"Because, and don't tell him I told you this, he's had a massive crush on the brides maid since high school, but it isn't until last month that she started giving him the time of day," Fred told her in a stage whisper.

"Then perhaps you should inform the groomsman that if he had been nicer in high school perhaps this wouldn't be our first dance together," she whispered back to him.

"I'll be sure the groomsman takes that into consideration. He'll be the perfect gentleman. Starting tomorrow," he said. Fred dipped Hermione suddenly and she began to giggle, to the consternation of old Aunt Muriel.

—

"You, me. Dancing of all things," Fred said as they turned on the dance floor.

"I'd rather be at home, soaking my feet and watching that atrocious tv show of yours," Hermione told him, hardly bothering to lift her head from his shoulder. "At least then I could get out of this dress and into something more comfortable."

"Just another hour before we can sneak out," he murmured. "Besides, if I get you out of that dress I'd hate to see you put something else on."

Hermione snorted and gave a wave to some cousin or another on her aunt's side twice removed. "Please, you'd already be asleep on the couch before I was out of these shoes."

"I can't believe you'd accuse me of ignoring you on our wedding night."

"And I can't believe that you and George haven't come up with some scheme to get us out of here early."

"Patience, dovie. Only a few minutes more before the fireworks begin."

—

I'm having way more fun with these than I thought I would, can you tell?


	6. Eyes

"Hermione."  
"Fred."  
"Can I ask you something?"  
"Can it wait?"  
"Probably. How can you tell the difference between me and George?"  
"George and I."  
"No, I don't have a problem telling you apart from George. But really, how do you do it?"  
"Do you really want to know?"  
"Of course."  
"George always looks at my face when he's talking to me."  
"I look at your face. Mostly." 


	7. 4 am

Fred lives drabble.

—

"What on earth are you listening to?" Hermione asked as she came into the kitchen.

Fred started, not expecting any company this early in the morning. Or late at night, depending on what one's definition of 4 a.m. was. "Siren's Song. A band Tonks introduced us to," he said softly.

Hermione bit her lip and watched as Fred brought a mug to his lips. She'd known he and George had gotten quite close to Tonks during the war, but she'd never dared to bring her up to either of them. They'd all lost friends, heaven knew how many lost without reason, but she'd been one of the lucky ones not to have lost any close friends or family. It seemed as if she was the only one and she said a prayer of thanks every morning for that.

It was only a month out from Voldement's fall and things showed no sign of getting better. The Ministry was still actively seeking out Muggleborns, now under the pretext of protecting them, while the press continued to fear monger by publishing alleged sightings of Death Eaters throughout Europe. Hogwarts was in ruins and it appeared that the greatest school in all of Europe would not be holding classes for the first time since it's opening.

Everyone else was just trying to cope, just trying to make it through the day without the demons of memories coming back to haunt them. Fred and George's business was barely surviving, now more of an apothecary than a joke shop what with the amount of Sleepless Draughts and SandMan Away they owled out every week.

Meanwhile Harry was continuing to sleep for most of the day, coming out only to eat a few bites at dinner after Mrs. Weasley threatened to glue him to his seat if he didn't. Hermione had tried to talk with him, but he shut her out as if she was nothing more than a stranger. If she was honest, Ginny was far better suited to comforting him despite all they'd gone through. Their demons were far different and Hermione couldn't say much considering she still refused to let anyone know what exactly had happened in Malfoy Manor.

And Ron. Thinking of Ron made her want to break everything in the house. After all they'd gone through and he still decided to run away again. At first he'd only drawn into himself, which was entirely understandable. He'd lost his older brother Percy to the wall just after reconciling with him, then he'd stumbled across Fenrir still standing over the mangled body of Lavender. Whereas Harry couldn't seem to stop from sleeping, Ron avoided it altogether. And when he was sharing the same space with another person he was irritable and snapped at anything near him. Then one morning he was gone.

And Hermione couldn't help but fuel the flame of anger and resentment towards him every day. He wasn't the only one who wanted to run. Yet she was the one who had to watch every day as Mrs. Weasley stared at his hand on the family clock. As Fred and George would sit on either side of his and Percy's chairs as if daring anyone else to sit in them. As Harry asked her, every damn day since, if she'd heard anything from him.

A glass shattered in the cabinet next to her and in a heartbeat she and Fred were both standing, wands drawn at the noise. Hermione let out a shaky breath as she realized what had happened.

"Sorry. I was thinking about Ron and -"

"I know. He makes me want to break something too," Fred admitted as he lowered his wand. "Sometimes I really don't know what you ever saw in him."

Hermione gave him a mirthful smile. "Sometimes I wonder as well. It's not as if he's the only one hurting," she muttered as she rubbed at her arm.

Fred raised an eyebrow but thankfully didn't comment. "What are you still doing up, anyways?"

She shrugged and looked past him towards the window. "I couldn't sleep. The dreams," she trailed off, trying to fight back the memories and the spasms of pain they brought.

Fred, thankfully, only nodded, his eyes dark with his own memories.

"There's more coffee on the stove if you want to stay up. Though you might want to make sure the cup you drink it in isn't white," he said, a dull ember of his former self shining through. At least the war hadn't put it out entirely.

"Should I ask why or just wait until your mother comes down? She has always loved that white porcelain cup of hers," Hermione asked as she poured coffee into a decidedly green cup.

Fred gave her a pathetic sliver of a smile as she sat down across from him. "Have to keep you on your toes. Never know when you're going to start growing hair out of your ears or wings on your nose."

"I'd like that, actually," she admitted softly as she stared down into the black depths of her cup. "It would be a nice change from this."

They sat in silence until the sun came up, listening to the soothing sounds of the past. If anyone noticed, no one commented, only filled in the rest of the seats around them.


	8. Curry

Hermione rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She'd been staring at her computer screen for almost six hours now and she still wasn't any closer to finding out why they were off by eighty thousand pounds. It was maddening really. Especially when it wasn't her numbers that weren't adding up. If anyone's it was probably the new intern's, that Creevey fellow. Enthusiastic, yes. But proficient? Hardly.

The sound of paper hitting her cubicle wall made her start. On her desk was a small airplane made out of a post note. Odd. Even stranger still was the picture of a tap dancing otter that greeted her when she unfolded it.

"What on earth?" Hermione glanced around the walls of the cubicle but finding no one was there she sat back down. It really was cute, she thought with a slight smile. She tacked it up next to the picture of her cat and went back to work.

—

"There you are Granger. Fancy an eclair?" Fred Weasley asked.

Hermione frowned and glanced up to find him hanging off the side she shared with him. "No. Thank you."

"Suit yourself. But if I do say so, it's quite good." She ignored him and kept entering yesterday's figures. "Any plans for the weekend?"

She sighed and spun her chair around to face him. "No plans for the weekend, I don't watch telly, and I don't talk politics at work," she snipped. Honestly, he should know this by now. He'd been pestering her for almost six months now.

Fred shrugged it off as easily as he always did. "Right then. I'll leave you to it. But if you change your mind."

"Yes, yes. I know where to find you," she said, adding softly "you sodding git."

—

Hermione leaned back in her chair and smiled at the post-its now covering her wall. A bit childish, but still quite lovely. Not all of them were pictures of animals. Some were of the scenery around London. Those were her favorites. The rest ranged from flowers to mindless patterns. She still hadn't any idea who was sending them as they seemed to appear at random, either over the sides of her cubicle or stuck to her monitor after she'd left her desk.

"Hermione, can I see you in my office for a minute?" her supervisor asked.

"Sure Minnie. Should I bring the figures from the Riddle file with me?"

"That would be lovely. How are your parents doing? Did they like Australia?" Minnie asked as they walked towards her office.

—

Fifty minutes later and Hermione was finally freed from the dull task of the seemingly never ending Riddle estate. And a quarter to five on a Friday none-the-less. As she rounded the doorway to her cubicle, she was surprised to find Fred seated at her desk, his head bent over a slip of paper and a pen in his hand.

"Fred Weasley, what do you think you're doing at my desk?" she said shrilly.

His head shot up and Hermione was reminded of when she'd found Teddy's hand in the cookie jar last week. Fred blushed furiously, the color rising high on his cheeks, and crumpled the paper up in his hand before she could see it.

"Let me see it," she said as she held out her hand.

Fred glanced down at his hand. "I'd really rather not," he muttered.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, her suspicions aroused. The man didn't have an embarrassed bone in his body, yet everything about him was screaming he was. "Then tell me why you were in my cubicle. We don't work on the same files let alone have the same supervisor. And I know you have your own post-its, Lee covered your desk with them last week. You can't have gone through all of them this quickly."

With a sigh, Fred handed her the crumpled paper and stalked out of his cubicle and towards the kitchen. Hermione frowned, waiting until he was out of sight before unfolding the crumpled paper. Drawn on the pink post-it was a small red fox chasing the rabbit along it's edges.

Hermione blinked. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. Of all people Fred Weasley was the last she'd have suspected of sending her cute drawings throughout the day. After a final glance at the paper, she headed towards the kitchen, determined to find out what this all meant.

"Fred, what is this?"

He gave her a sour look and turned to stir his tea. "A drawing."

She sighed. "Don't be obtuse. I mean why were you sending me these."

Fred shrugged and fiddled with the teabag, refusing to look up at her. "I dunno. I guess I might fancy you a bit."

"What?" Hermione was flabbergasted. They'd done nothing but bicker the entire time they'd worked next to each other. Granted there had been the initial attraction and she did admire his persistence, even if it did interrupt her train of thought at times. But why her? She'd done her best to make herself as ornery as possible to fend off his constant chatter.

"Look, I was just trying to be nice since you got the Riddle file dumped on you. I know how horrible it is, they made me review the damned thing when it first came in." He sighed and ran a hand down his face, still refusing to look at her. "Can we just forget about this whole thing? I promise I'll leave you alone, I just -"

"Freddie, there you are," Lee said as he came into the kitchen. He clapped a hand onto Fred's shoulder, giving Hermione a polite nod. "Pub?"

Fred nodded, but said nothing further as Lee began to chatter on about the day's clients. Hermione stood there for a moment, giving Fred one last searching look before she turned and headed towards her desk. This was certainly something to ponder.

—

On Monday morning, Hermione glanced towards the wall of Fred's cubicle, biting her lip and wondering if he'd say anything this morning. Movement caught her eye and she watched as he passed by, his head deliberately cast towards the ground. She waited, the butterflies in her stomach churning her breakfast into butter.

After a few moments, Fred head popped over their shared wall, a questioning look on his face. "Are you sure this one's for me?" he asked, holding up the eclair she'd placed on his desk when she'd got in this morning.

She nodded. "If you'll have it."

Fred's smile almost split his face and he nodded. "Brilliant. Fancy a curry after work?"

Hermione smiled at him and nodded. "A curry sounds lovely."


	9. Socks

"There you are, I've been knocking for ages," Ginny said when Hermione finally opened the door. "You won't believe what happened at practice today, I swear if we thought Oliver was bad at Hogwarts Penny is twenty-million times worse," she added as she breezed past Hermione towards the kitchen. With a quick flick of her wand the percolator began bubbling and Ginny unwound her scarf. "I mean really, the Cannons are still the worst team in Europe, so why are we all running laps at 4 in the morning?"

"Er, Ginny. It's 7 a.m. What are you doing here?" Hermione asked quietly, tightening her robe. She glanced back towards her bedroom down the hall before returning her attention on the irritated witch in front of her.

"It's Sunday, our brunch day," Ginny told her. "Besides, I brought bearclaws. Anyways, I got so mad at Penny, and Bruna agreed that she was being a cow, so we just slipped off to the showers an hour early. Penny didn't even notice since Maude got hit by a bludger just as we were leaving, poor thing, so they were tending to that when we left. And of course you know how absolutely famished I am after practice."

"No, I mean, why are you here. We weren't meeting until 10," Hermione said as she worried her bottom lip.

"I know that. I just figured you'd be up anyways and I could try to convince you to ask out that cute accountant friend of Ron's," Ginny said with a shrug. Hermione pursed her lips and glanced back towards the bedroom.

Ginny frowned at her friend's odd behavior. Normally this early in the morning Hermione was fully awake and had two cups of coffee in her. Her hair was far too messy for just a night's rest. That robe was short enough to suggest that Hermione was wearing little to nothing under it. And was that a hickey on her shoulder? Well, well, well.

"Why Ms. Granger. I never thought you had it in you," Ginny teased as a smile began to creep along her face. "Who is he?"

Hermione's eyes flew open and she moved to block the door. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," she tried to say, but Ginny had already slipped by her and was walking towards her bedroom door. "Ginevra Molly Weasley, don't you dare open that door," Hermione hissed as she followed her friend down the hall.

Ginny waved her off and slowly began to turn the doorknob. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about Hermione. Besides, I only want to see what he looks like," she whispered back.

"Ginny, please don't," Hermione pleaded, but Ginny was far too curious to resist.

"Just one peek," she said promised as she opened the door

The sight that greeted her was wholly disappointing. Whoever it was that Hermione had deemed worthy enough to bring home was still buried deep under the covers, all but one foot sticking out from under the covers. Even the floor was free of clues, no clothes strewn about to suggest a wild night of passion. Ginny looked around a moment longer before Hermione could stand it no more.

"You've had your look, now let's go," she whispered as she grabbed the door handle.

"Fine, but you're spilling all the details at brunch," Ginny whispered back.

The whispering was enough to stir Hermione's beau. Ginny could hear a muffled yawn and he shifted just enough to stick his other foot out from underneath the cover. She glanced down at the new foot only to find a purple penguin staring back at her. A purple penguin she'd seen the week before when Fred had opened his birthday present, a pair of enchanted socks that matched George's pink ones. Both of which she'd had bought in Russia when the Harpies had gone on tour last year. Both of which couldn't be found anywhere in the U.K.

"Fred?" Ginny hissed, her eyes wide in surprise as she glanced between the form on the bed and her best friend.

"Shh, you'll wake him," Hermione whispered as she moved Ginny out of the room and softly shut the door behind her.

"Now you really have some explaining to do," Ginny said with a grin.

Hermione groaned and leaned against the wall. "Coffee and bearclaw first, then I'll tell you everything."

"Please, leave some things in the dark. For the first time I don't want to know every little detail."


	10. What-If's

She sips her wine as she sits, staring out the window and wondering what he'd be doing know if he'd lived. Her thoughts go to wasted moments, longing glances, and baited breath as she waited to see if he'd notice her. He always did.

That was one thing she liked best about him. With him she wasn't HarryRonHermione. She was just Hermione, the girl who was afraid of heights, the girl who loved rose hip tea. The girl who cried when she found a dead bird; the girl who smiled when it rained. The girl who loved to laugh at his horrible puns.

And he was Fred, the jester of Gryffindor, the one who made everyone happy, the one who drove her mad. He'd gone out of his way to make her laugh and she'd gone out of her way to keep from smiling. She hoped he'd never quit.

Whatever it was between them had been brief. And painfully incomplete. The spark that lay between them had been overshadowed by the war and constantly interrupted by Ron.

Hermione glanced at the ring he'd offered her last week and she wondered if she would have accepted if he'd still been alive. It wasn't as if she didn't love Ron. She did, truly. She didn't ever think she could love another like she loved Ron.

But that didn't keep her mind from the what-ifs. What if Fred had survived the war? What if she'd danced with him that night at Bill and Fleur's wedding? What if she had sent him that letter she'd desperately written before they broke into Gringotts? What if she'd seen him when he'd come to Shell Cottage? What if she'd followed him out and snogged him like she'd wanted to?

She started at the laughter coming from the living room and glanced back towards the kitchen door. What if it were Fred making them laugh just now?

"Wondering where you'd gone off too," Ron said as he came into the kitchen, cutting off her thoughts and bringing her back to the present. "Everything alright?"

Hermione gave him a tight smile and nodded. "Yes, everything's fine. I was just thinking about what-if's," she finally admitted.

Ron gave her a soft smile before setting an empty bowl in the sink. "There's always what-if's when May comes round, aren't there?" he said softly. She studied him as he stared at the sink and her heart tensed knowing that he was thinking about his own Lavender what-if's. After a moment his gaze cleared and he looked up at her, focusing his eyes only on her in a way that still made her heart flutter. "C'mon, we'd best be getting out there. It is our engagement party after all," he said, holding his hand out to her.

She set her wine down on the counter and took his hand, following him out into the living room and away from the past.


	11. If

AU in this one; Ron died in the Ministry of Magic in Book Five while Fred makes it through the Battle of Hogwarts.

xxxxx

If George noticed Hermione sneaking out of the flat in the mornings he didn't say anything. He knew they all had their own ways of grieving and if this was theirs, so be it. They'd all lost someone to the war, some more than most. The two had lost their now-and-forever's two years ago; Angelina at the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron three years ago when they'd broken into the Ministry of Magic.

So if they found comfort in each other who was George to deprive them of it? The few times he'd tried to confront Fred about what they were doing, Fred had shut down and locked himself up in his room for weeks. What little George had been able to piece together in the months after tempered his questions as he finally understood. Fred had been standing next to Angelina, joking with Percy one minute and covered in dust and rubble the next. Angelina didn't make it; the healers told them that she hadn't felt much pain, but George had his own doubts, ones he knew Fred shared.

Fred's guilt over not being able to save Angelina had torn him up inside in the months after the war and it took a month before George was able to fall asleep to a sound other than his brother's sobs. It took another two months before Fred set foot in the shop. And it had taken almost two years before Fred began working the front of the shop again, coincidentally just hours after George caught Hermione softly padding towards the floo clad in shorts and one of Fred's old tees.

So if George wanted to say something about how all this sneaking around wasn't healthy for either of them he held his tongue and prayed that this would work out for the best.

xxxx

If Ginny noticed Fred sneaking through the floo more often lately she pursed her lips and looked the other way. She knew this was temporary for the both of them, the guilt on Hermione's face the mornings after told her that much. Ginny never knew whether the guilt was from sneaking around or loyalty to Ron, and she didn't dare ask.

Since Ron's death four years ago Hermione had refused to talk to anyone about him, even Harry. They were all still hurting from a life cut short far too soon. And when Harry collapsed just moments after he'd defeated Voldemort the entire family was inconsolable. Ginny had been far too wrapped up in her own grieving to notice, but the little that remained of Hermione's sanity had shattered when she found out that her parents had been captured before they were ever able to leave the county. What little remained of them barely covered the bottom of a shared urn.

It had taken Ginny almost six months before she began to show signs of her former self. It had taken Hermione almost a year and a half to leave the Burrow.

Since then they'd both avoided talking about Ron. Or Harry. Or the war. Or much of anything, really. And Ginny missed her best friend. She missed the only sister she'd ever known.

It had taken nine months after Fred's sudden late night appearance, but Ginny finally drew up the courage to let out everything she'd been keeping secret since the war ended. She wanted answer about the war, about what had changed in Hermione. And why she'd let it take her over. She wanted to yell and scream that Hermione wasn't the only one to lose their first love, that she wasn't the only one with invisible scars.

Words were said that night that neither were proud of. Words they had chosen to cause the deepest cuts. There was screaming and crying on both sides. Almost everything in the apartment that could be broken had.

And when it was finally over the two women lay sobbing on the floor, clinging to each other the past they'd left behind.

When Ginny woke up on the couch hours later it was to the smell of coffee and the sound of Fred and Hermione's soft voices lulling her back to sleep. So if Ginny noticed Fred coming through the front door in the weeks that followed she bit her lip and trusted that Hermione knew what she was doing.

xxxxx

If Molly noticed the soft glances and secret touches passing between Fred and Hermione, she held her tongue and kept a sharp eye on the two. Whatever had been going on between them was driving them both to healing far quicker than any other method she'd tried. Fred had nearly lost his life, a thought that still gave her nightmares, while Hermione.

That poor girl had lost the two most precious parts of herself. Molly's heart clenched when she thought of the sacrifices her son, Harry, and Hermione – no, of the sacrifices _all_ of her children had made during the war. After all they'd been through only to lose their chance at a happy ending. Her poor Ron hadn't even known they'd won the war. And Harry had died along with that mad-man, the Horcrux in him the only thing keeping the boy alive.

The poor girl had managed to put up a strong front after the war as they began rebuilding, breaking down only in the small hours when the Burrow had long ago gone to sleep. Molly had woken one night to double check the wards and had found Hermione sitting in the kitchen staring at a long-grown cold cup of tea. Every night after Molly had made sure that the girl's tea never grew cold while she flitted through the kitchen making cookies that no one ever ate.

Hermione had just started opening up about what had happened during the war when Kingsley had to go and send that damned letter. After months of searching, the Ministry had finally found Fenrir's last few hideouts, along with the little that remained of the Grangers. It was estimated that they'd been killed before they could even leave the country.

Upon hearing the news Hermione had excused herself from the table and gone upstairs. She'd refused to leave her bed for months on end. It had taken Molly almost four months to get the girl to come down to supper and she was ashamed to admit that she often wondered if it wouldn't have been better if Hermione had been taken along with them. Even now Hermione refused to speak about what had gone on between the three, almost as if she didn't want to let anyone share the few ties Hermione had left with Ron and Harry.

Yet for the first time in almost four years, Hermione was talking about the first time she met Harry and Ron, prompted only by Percy's remark about how uneventful that school year was. So if Molly noticed Fred's arm across the back of Hermione's chair, or Hermione leaning into Fred as she laughed, Molly said nothing and smiled to herself.


	12. Coffee and Common Mistakes

Coffee and Common Mistakes

Fred had barely managed to get his old, hand me down laptop to boot up when a flurry of brown hair, plum colored stockings, and the smell of coffee whirled into the seat next to him.

"Thank god you're taking this seminar too, I thought I'd be the only one. Really, I can't believe that they're still letting Snape teach advanced chemistry after the disaster that was Organic last semester," the woman said, shoving a cup of something hot into his hands and rummaging through her bag. She drew out a notebook and a pen as she continued her rant. "And after Harry gave them all the proof they needed that it wasn't him that set the fire. Honestly, if my parents weren't so proud of this University I'd have already filed at least twenty complaints with the Board of Education."

Fred stared at the woman to his right, his mouth gaping open as he tried to place her. Despite her disheveled appearance she seemed quite confident in her actions, yet he could not think of one instance of where he might have met her. And she was surely someone he would remember. After all, no one he knew would go about in a knee-length skirt and a sweater covered in cat hair if they could help it. As she continued to rant, he brought the cup up to his mouth and grimaced at the taste. Dirty Chai Latte, heavy on the espresso and far too bitter for his tastes.

Eventually, the lights above them dimmed and Professor Snape (an absolute snake in the grass, if the woman was to be believed) slunk towards the podium. The woman rolled her eyes and opened her notebook, ready to get to work. The rest of the class was uneventful, though Fred kept sneaking glances at the woman next to him as he tried to place her. Any brief, misguided dates were stricken from the list. She didn't seem the type. And from her focus on her academics she wasn't Ron or Ginny's friend. And she certainly wasn't anyone that George had introduced him to.

Two miserable hours later, the lights flickered back on as Snape called out the homework assignment due the next week. To his surprise, the woman jumped up quickly. "Sorry to run so quick, but I've only got ten minutes to make it across campus. See you next week," she said with a wave as she excused herself from the aisle. "And don't forget the coffee!"

xxxx

Fred glanced between the two cups in his hand as he walked up the aisle, debating on which to hand the woman when he got to his seat. The vanilla latte, extra shot of syrup or the blacker than Percy's soul Italian roast? Personally he preferred his milk with a dash of coffee, but after the tar that he was handed last week he wondered whether the woman had the same coffee taste as his brother. (George, for his part, had been stumped by the woman when Fred had mentioned her, declaring that he had no female friends outside of Alicia and Angelina. Then again, it probably hadn't been the best idea to ask him after eight lagers and a cider.)

Luckily his decision was made for him as the woman reached for the cup in his left hand (vanilla latte, damn his luck) and made a soft noise of contentment as she sipped it. "Extra syrup, just the way I like it. You always did make a girl feel loved."

"Er, right," Fred said, clearing his throat as he set his drink down. "Look, I don't mean to offend but who -"

"Take your seat, sir, or I will take ten points from your final grade," Snape's voice rang out through the lecture hall. Fred blushed beet red and quickly took his seat. The woman shot him a grin and twirled her pen in her hand, ready and prepared for class. Fred pulled a frown and picked up his cup, resigned to a fate worse than having to dig through Ron's pigsty of a room for his copy of Footballers Monthly.

Again, the woman begged off to her next class before Fred was able to get her name.

xxxx

Six weeks into the semester and Fred found himself laid up in bed sick with the flu. As much as he tried, he was unable to convince George to go in his place, Snape's strict three absences only policy looming over his head.

"No way on earth, dear brother, could you convince me to take that man's class again. I did it once three semesters ago and my G.P.A. is still showing the scars from it. I'm surprised you haven't failed out of that class already just by being my brother."

xxxx

Big brown eyes laced with concern where the first thing to greet him as he took his seat in Chemistry the next week. "Are you alright? I was getting worried when you didn't show up last week."

Fred shrugged and opened up his laptop. "Laid out with the flu," he said.

"Well, I'm glad you're back. And I brought you a copy of my notes. I'd read over page three before Snape comes in though, he's due for a pop quiz and he likes the more complicated math problems," she said, sliding him a stack of printed papers and a steaming cup. Fred blinked, not expecting either the notes or the coffee. "I hope you don't mind, but I got you something a bit sweeter this time since you hardly touched the first one."

"You're absolutely brilliant," he breathed as he reviewed her notes and sipped at the sugared coffee. Not his first choice but still better than what he'd been forced to drink on the weeks she brought the coffee. She quirked a smile at him before turning to her own notes.

True to her word, Snape swept in ten minutes later and announced a quiz that, Fred was certain, would have decimated his chances at a B had it not been for the woman's kind word of warning. He was barely able to get out a thanks before she flitted off to her next class.

xxxx

"And you're certain you have no idea who she is? And you've never been able to introduce yourself to her?" Alicia asked later at the pub. Fred shook his head and lifted his lager for a long drink. She gave a low whistle. "She doesn't think you're George, does she? It wouldn't be the first time a bird would have confused you two."

"He said he had no idea who she was, though at this point I'd believe he was having me on. His words were, and I quote, 'Alicia and Angelina are the only two female friends I've ever had.'"

Alicia snorted. "The only two he hasn't wanted to sleep with, you mean."

"Nah, he's always wanted to sleep with both of you. More so once he found out you two were a couple," Fred said with a wink.

"Pig," she shot back without any heat.

Whatever else Alicia said was lost to him as the woman in question breezed through the door, followed close behind by a dark haired, bespectacled boy and, oddly enough, by his brother Ron. When she realized his attention was elsewhere, Alicia turned in her seat and groaned. "That's her, isn't it? Well, go on then. Ask for an introduction."

Fred glanced at her, worried he'd offended her earlier, but she seemed far too amused to be bothered by anything else. "Right. Any words of encouragement?"

"Don't accept your shortcomings. Embrace them as valid excuses," Alicia said, lifting her mug in a mock toast.

He made a face, certainly not the words he'd been hoping for, before making his way towards his brother's table. He slid in next to the dark haired boy, certain he'd seen him before (perhaps buried underneath a pile of dirty laundry in Ron's dorm room), and waited for an opening in their conversation.

"Care to introduce your older brother to the woman who's brought him coffee for the last two months," he said with a grin.

The woman and dark haired boy turned to him, the woman's brows drawing together. "What on earth are you on about, George? We've had science classes together for the past five quarters. I'd have hoped you knew who I was by now." Fred quirked an eyebrow at her and made a mental note to replace George's laundry detergent with corn startch.

"S'not George, that one," Ron said, his surliness slipping into place at the sight of his older brother.

"Then who have I been bringing coffee too for the last two months?"

Fred grinned and reached his hand across the table. Too confused to refuse, the woman shook his hand. "Fredrick Gideon Weasley, at your service. And I'd love to take you for a proper coffee sometime."

xxxx


End file.
